When the small boy--whose name, it may be as well to mention, was
William (_alias_ Willie) Willders--saw the fire-engine start, as has
been already described, his whole soul yearned to follow it, for, in the
course of his short life, he had never succeeded in being at the
beginning of a fire, although he had often been at the middle and end of
one--not a very difficult thing in London, by the way, seeing that there
are, on the average, between four and five fires every twenty-four
hours!
Willie Willders was of an enquiring disposition. He wanted to know how
things were managed at a fire, from the beginning to the end, and he
found that the course of true inquiry, like another course we wot of,
never did run smooth.
Poor Willie's heart was with that engine, but his legs were not. They
did their best, but they failed, strong and active though they were, to
keep up with the horses. So Willie heaved a bursting sigh and slackened
his speed--as he had often done before in similar circumstances--
resolving to keep it in sight as long as he could, and trust to his
eyesight and to the flames "showing a light" for the rest.
Just as he came to this magnanimous resolve, a strapping young gentleman
called a passing cab, leaped in, ordered the driver to follow the
engine, and offered double fare if he should keep it in view up to the
fire.
Willie, being sharp as a needle, at once stepped forward and made as
though he would open the door for the gentleman. The youth was already
in and the door shut, but he smiled as he shouted to the driver, "All
right!" and tossed a copper to Willie, with the remark, "There, you
scamp!" The copper fell in the mud, and there Willie left it, as he
doubled nimbly behind the vehicle, and laid hold of it.
The cabman did his best to earn his double fare, and thus it came to
pass that Willie was in time to see the firemen commencing work.
As the young man leaped from the cab he uttered a cry of surprise and
alarm, and rushed towards the crowd of firemen nearest to the burning
house without paying his fare. Willie was a little astonished at this,
but losing sight of the youth in the crowd, and seeing nothing more of
him at that time, he became engrossed in other matters.
There were so many men on the ground, however--for just then a third
engine dashed up to the scene of conflagration--that it was difficult
for the excited boy to appreciate fully what he saw. He got as close to
the engine, however, as the policemen would allow him, and observed that
a fire-plug had been already opened, and over it had been placed a
canvas cistern of about a yard long by eighteen inches broad, stretched
on an iron frame. The cistern was filled with water to overflowing, and
the first engine had placed its suction-pipe in it, while from the front
of the engine extended the leathern hose that conveyed the water to the
burning house.
Willie was deeply interested in this, and was endeavouring to solve
certain knotty points in his own mind, when they were suddenly solved
for him by a communicative dustman who stood in the crowd close by, and
thus expounded the matter to his inquisitive son.
"You see, Tommy, the use o' the cistern is hobvious. See, here's 'ow it
lies. If an ingin comes up an screwges its suction on to the plug, all
the other ingins as comes after it has to stan' by an' do nuffin. But
by puttin' the cistern over the plug an' lettin' it fill, another ingin
or mabbe two more, can ram in its suction and drink away till it's fit
to burst, d'ye see."
Willie drank in the information with avidity, and then turned his
attention to the front of the engine, to which several lengths of hose,
each forty feet long, had been attached. Baxmore and Corney were at the
extreme end, screwing on the "branch" or nozzle by which the stream of
water is directed, and Dale was tumbling a half-drunk and riotous navvy
head-over-heels into the crowd, in order to convince him that his
services to pump were not wanted--a sufficient number having been
procured. A couple of policemen walked this navvy quietly from the
scene, as Dale called out:
"Down with her, boys!"
"Pump away, lads!" said one of the firemen, interpreting.
The volunteers bent their backs, and the white clouds of steam that
issued from the burning house showed that the second engine was doing
its work well.
Immediately after, Dale and his men, with the exception of those
required to attend the engine and the "branch," were ordered to get out
the ladders.
He who gave this order was a tall, sinewy man, middle-aged apparently,
and of grave demeanour. His dress was similar to that of the other
firemen, but there was an air of quiet unobtrusive authority about him,
which showed that he was a leader.
"We might get on the roof now, Mr Braidwood," suggested Dale, touching
his helmet as he addressed the well-known chief of the London
Fire-Engine Establishment.
"Not yet, Dale, not yet," said Braidwood; "get inside and see if you can
touch the fire through the drawing-room floor. It's just fallen in."
Dale and his men at once entered the front door of the building,
dragging the branch and hose along with them, and were lost in smoke.
Previous to the arrival of the fire-engines, however, a scene had been
enacted which Willie Willders had not witnessed. A fire-escape was
first to reach the burning house. This was then, and still is, usually
the case, owing to the fact that escapes are far more numerous in London
than engines, so that the former, being always close at hand, often
accomplish their great work of saving life before the engines make their
appearance.
The escape in the immediate neighbourhood of Beverly Square was under
the charge of Conductor Samuel Forest, a man who, although young, had
already saved many lives, in the service of the Society for the
Protection of Life from Fire.
When Forest reached the field of action, Mr James Auberly was seen at
an upper window in a state of undignified _dishabille_, shouting for
help, and half suffocated with smoke, with Mrs Rose hanging round his
neck on one side and Matty Merryon at the other. Poor Auberly, having
tried the staircase on the first alarm, was driven back by smoke, and
rushed wildly to the window, where the two domestics, descending in
terror from their attic, clung to him and rendered him powerless.
Forest at once pitched his escape--which was just a huge
scientifically-constructed ladder, set on wheels. The head of it
reached to the windows of the second floor. By pulling a rope attached
to a lever, he raised a second ladder of smaller size, which was fitted
to the head of the large one. The top of this second ladder was nearly
sixty feet from the ground, and it reached the window at which Mr
Auberly was still shouting. Forest at once sprang up.
"Leave me; save the women," gasped Auberly, as a man entered the room,
but the dense smoke overpowered him as he spoke, and he fell forward.
The women also sank to the ground.
Forest instantly seized Mrs Rose in his powerful arms, and hurrying
down the ladder to the top of the escape, put her into the canvas trough
or sack which was suspended below the ladder all the way. Down this she
slid somewhat violently but safely to the ground, while Forest ran up
again and rescued Matty in the same way. Mr Auberly was more difficult
to manage, being a heavy man, and his rescuer was almost overpowered by
the thick smoke in the midst of which all this was done. He succeeded,
however, but fainted on reaching the ground.
It was at this point that the first engine arrived, and only a few
minutes elapsed when the second made its appearance, followed by the cab
from which the young man leapt with the exclamation of surprise and
alarm that had astonished Willie Willders.
Pushing his way to the place where Mr Auberly and the others lay, the
youth fell on his knees. "My father!" he exclaimed wildly.
"He's all right, lad," said Mr Braidwood, coming up at that moment, and
laying his hand kindly on the youth's shoulder; "he's only choked with
smoke, and will be better in a minute. Any more in the house?" he added
quickly.
Young Auberly leaped up with a shout.
"My sister! is she not saved? Are _all_ here?"
He waited not for a reply, but in another moment was on the fire-escape.
"After him, two of you," said Braidwood, turning to his men.
Two at once obeyed. In fact, they had leaped forward almost before the
brief command was uttered. One of these firemen was conspicuous for his
height and strength. He was first up the ladder. Close upon him
followed Baxmore with a lantern.
Nothing but smoke had yet reached the room into which young Auberly
entered, so that he instantly found himself in impenetrable darkness,
and was almost choked as well as blinded.
"Have a care, Frank; the floor must be about gone by this time," said
Baxmore, as he ran after his tall comrade.
The man whom he called Frank knew this. He also knew that it was not
likely any one had been left in the room from which the master of the
house had been rescued, and he thought it probable that his daughter
would occupy a room on the same floor with her father. Acting on this
supposition, and taking for granted that the room they were about to
enter was Mr Auberly's bedroom, the tall fireman dashed at once through
the smoke, and tumbled over the prostrate form of young Auberly.
"Look after him, Baxmore," he gasped, as he seized the lamp from his
comrade's hand, and darted across the room and out into the passage,
where he went crash against a door and burst it open. Here the smoke
was not so dense, so that he could breathe, though with difficulty.
One glance showed him where the bed was. He felt it. A female form was
lying on it. The light weight and the long hair which swept across his
face as he raised it gently but swiftly on his shoulder, told him that
it was that of a girl.
At that moment he heard a loud shout from the crowd, which was followed
by a crash. Dashing once more across the passage, he saw that a lurid
flame was piercing the smoke in the other room. The staircase he knew
was impassable; probably gone by that time; but he had not time to
think, so he drew the blanket over the girl's head and bounded towards
the window. There was a feeling of softness under his feet, as if the
floor were made of pasteboard. He felt it sinking beneath him. Down it
went, just as he laid hold of the head of the fire-escape, from which he
hung suspended in the midst of the smoke and sparks that rose from the
falling ruin.
Strong though the young fireman was, he could not raise himself by one
arm, while the other was twined round Louisa Auberly. At that moment,
Baxmore, having carried young Auberly down in safety, again ascended and
appeared at the window. He seized Frank by the hair of the head.
"Let go my hair, and catch the girl!" shouted Frank.
"All right," said Baxmore, seizing Loo and lifting her over the window
sill.
Frank being thus relieved, swung himself easily on the sill, and
grasping Loo once more, descended to the street, where he was met by Mr
Auberly, who had recovered from his state of partial suffocation, and
who seized his child and hurried with her into a neighbouring house.
Thither he was followed by Mrs Rose and Matty, who had also recovered.
During these episodes, the firemen had continued at their work with cool
and undistracted attention. And here the value of organisation was
strikingly and beautifully brought out; for, while the crowd swayed to
and fro, now breathless with anxiety lest the efforts of the bold
conductor of the fire-escape should fail; anon wild with excitement and
loud in cheers when he succeeded, each fireman paid devoted and
exclusive attention to his own prescribed piece of duty, as if nothing
else were going on around him, and did it with all his might--well
knowing that every other piece of work was done, or point of danger
guarded, by a comrade, while the eagle eyes of Mr Braidwood and his not
less watchful foremen superintended all, observed and guided, as it
were, the field of battle.
And truly, good generalship was required, for the foe was fierce and
furious. The "devouring element" rushed onward like a torrent. The
house was large and filled with rich furniture, which was luxurious food
for the flames as they swept over the walls, twined round the
balustrades, swallowed the paintings, devoured the woodwork, and melted
the metal in their dread progress. But the foe that met them was, on
this occasion, more than a match for the flames. It was a hand-to-hand
encounter. The men followed them foot by foot, inch by inch--sometimes
almost singeing their beards or being well-nigh choked and blinded by
dense volumes of smoke, but, if driven back, always returning to the
charge. The heat at times beat on their helmets so fiercely that they
were forced to turn their faces aside and half-turn their backs on the
foe, but they _always_ kept their weapons--the "branches"--to the front,
and continued to discharge upon him tons and tons of aqueous artillery.
"Get up to the windows now; use the escape," said Mr Braidwood; and as
he said this he passed through the doorway of the burning house.
Some of the men rushed up the escape and let down a line, to which one
of the branches was made fast.
"Avast pumpin', number two!" shouted Baxmore from the midst of clouds of
smoke that were bursting out from the window.
Number two engine was stopped. Its branch was pulled up and pointed
inside _straight at the fire_; the signal given, "Down with number two!"
and a hiss was followed by volumes of steam.
The work of extinction had at last begun in real earnest. As long as
they could only stand in the street and throw water in through the
windows at haphazard, they might or might not hit the fire--and at all
events they could not attack its strong points; but now, Baxmore at one
window, and one of the men of the first engine at another, played
point-blank into the flames, and, wherever the water hit, they were
extinguished. Presently they got inside and began to be able to see
through the smoke; a blue glimmer became visible, the branch was
pointed, and it was gone. By this time the second floor had partly
given way, and fire was creeping down the rafters to the eaves of the
house. Baxmore observed this; and pointed the branch straight up. The
fire at that part was put out, and a heavy shower of water fell back on
the fireman, drenching him to the skin.
The attack had now become general. The firemen swarmed in at the doors
and windows the moment that it was possible for a human being to breathe
the smoke and live. One of the engines attached two additional lengths
of hose, dragged the branch through the first floor to the back of the
house, got upon an outhouse, in at a back window, and attacked the foe
in rear. On the roof, Frank and Dale were plying their hatchets, their
tall figures sharply defined against the wintry sky, and looking more
gigantic than usual. The enemy saved them the trouble of cutting
through, however, for it suddenly burst upwards, and part of the roof
fell in. It would certainly have taken Frank prisoner had not Dale
caught him by the collar, and dragged him out of danger. Instantly a
branch was pointed downwards, and the foe was beaten back; from above,
below, before, and behind, it was now met with deluges of water, which
fell on the shoulders of the men in the lower floor in a continuous hot
shower, while they stood ankle-deep in hot water.
In ten minutes after this the fire was effectually subdued, the lower
floor having been saved, although its contents were severely damaged by
water.
It was only necessary now, that one of the engines should remain for a
time, to make good the victory. The others rolled up their hose, and
prepared to depart. The King Street engine was the first to quit the
field of battle. While the men were getting ready, Mr Auberly, muffled
in a long cloak, stepped from the crowd and touched Frank, the tall
fireman, on the shoulder.
"Sir," said he in a low voice, "you saved my child. I would show my
sense of gratitude. Will you accept of this purse?"
Frank shook his head and a smile played on his smoke-begrimed
countenance as he said:
"No, Mr Auberly. I am obliged to you, but I cannot accept of it. I do
not want it, and besides, the men of the brigade are not allowed to take
money."
"But you will let me do something for you?" urged Mr Auberly. "Is
there nothing that I can do?"
"Nothing, sir," said Frank. He paused for a moment, and then
resumed--"Well, there _is_ something that perhaps you could do, sir. I
have a little brother out of employment; if you could get him a
situation, sir."
"I will," said Mr Auberly with emotion. "Send him to me on Thursday
forenoon. He will find me living next door to my--to my late home. I
shall stay with a friend there for some time. Good-night."
"Men of King Street engine get up," cried Dale. "Stay--what is your
name?" said Mr Auberly turning round.
But Frank was gone. He had leaped to his place on the engine and was
off at a rattling pace through the now silent and deserted streets of
the sleeping city.
Although they drove on at great speed there was no shouting now, for
neither 'bus, cab, nor foot-passenger blocked up the way, and the men,
begrimed with smoke and charcoal, wet, and weary with two hours of
almost uninterrupted labour of a severe as well as dangerous character,
sat or stood in their places in perfect silence.
On reaching the fire-station they leaped to the ground, and all went
quickly and silently to their neighbouring homes and beds, except the
two men on duty. These, changing their coats and boots, lay down on the
trestles, and at once fell fast asleep--the engine and horses having
been previously housed--and then Dale sat down to make an entry of the
event in his day-book.
The whole thing might have been only a vivid dream, so silent was the
room and so devoid of any evidence of recent excitement, while the
reigning tranquillity was enhanced rather than decreased by the soft
breathing of the sleepers, the ticking of the clock, and the scratching
of Dale's pen as he briefly recorded the facts of the fire that night in
Beverly Square.